[The Grand Temple of Lord Urzan — Continuation]
The cheers did not fade. If anything...they only grew louder.
"LONG LIVE PRINCE ZARYAN!"
"LONG LIVE PRINCESS NYZARA!"
"MAY LORD URZAN BLESS THE GOLDEN BLOOD!"
The sacred bells continued echoing throughout the temple; flower petals descended like gentle snowfall. The sunlight surrounding the twins slowly returned to its place above Lord Urzan's colossal statue.
Yet...the warmth remained, as though his blessing had chosen to linger. The high priest slowly stepped forward once more; his aged eyes rested upon the twins.
Then...upon Levin and Zeramet.
"My Malik, Malika." He bowed deeply as his voice carried unusual solemnity. "The naming has been accepted, but...one rite still remains."
The temple immediately fell silent. Levin glanced toward Zeramet. "Final rite?"
The high priest nodded. "It is the oldest tradition of Zahryssar. So ancient...that even many nobles have forgotten its purpose."
